


Credence in Furs

by Seraphinyte



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Dom!Credence, Fur Kink, M/M, Plot, Power Dynamics, Slow Build, Venus in Furs AU, will add more tags as I write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:05:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphinyte/pseuds/Seraphinyte
Summary: There was nothing in particular that made Percival Graves turn his head to the opposite sidewalk, as he found himself watching with avid curiosity. It just happened to be a fleeting glance which, in that brief second, caught the motion of the fur in the fading light just so, creating movement along the silhouette of the young man with the kind of elegance Graves was not accustomed to seeing in this part of New York.





	1. The Stranger

There was nothing in particular that made Percival Graves turn his head to the opposite sidewalk, as he found himself watching with avid curiosity. It just happened to be a fleeting glance which, in that brief second, caught the motion of the fur in the fading light just so, creating movement along the silhouette of the young man with the kind of elegance Graves was not accustomed to seeing in this part of New York. He continued to watch the man, transfixed by the slender frame carrying the fur coat with his head held high, dark curls falling around his shoulders. 

As his eyes followed the stranger, he became aware of the stream of pedestrians that were shuffling around where he stood in the centre of the walkway. He pushed his way through the bustle and movement to cross the road, rushing to catch up with the stranger’s fast pace. He wasn’t far now, just a few paces behind the man. This was wrong, he thought, following a stranger simply because they had caught his eye. He had absolutely no reason to tail him. But something drew him to the man, something that he couldn’t explain, and so he continued after him until the stranger turned a corner and then seemingly vanished.

Graves stared down the street in dismay. How could he have missed him just like that? Graves couldn’t sense any magical energy as he continued along the path where the stranger should have been. Likewise, he hadn’t sensed any kind of magical presence when he had only been a few feet away from him. If anything, the man may have been a squib, but that certainly did not explain how he could have suddenly disappeared.

Graves ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the perfectly ordinary street with its perfectly ordinary no-maj populace. No one seemed to have noticed the strange event and so Graves shook his head, wondering whether he had just imagined the whole thing. He pulled the collar of his coat closer around his neck in an attempt to keep out the cool evening air. Turning down a nearby alleyway, he double-checked he was alone before disapparating back to his apartment. 

With a smooth flick of his wrist, the lights of the entrance hallway illuminated the modestly decorated space. Removing his coat and jacket, he headed to the couch in his small living room. He summoned a generously filled glass of bourbon and took out the notes from the current case Picquery had him assigned to. He figured of all the things that could keep his mind away from that head of dark curls, work was something he could rely on being able to maintain a prolonged focus on. 

And for the first few minutes it did work. Until he realised that every time he tried to read through a document it was becoming impossible to make it to the end of a sentence without his mind wandering back to that long swathe of fur. Once again he found himself subconsciously running his fingers through his slicked back hair and grumbled at no one in particular about how it was turning into a bad habit. 

It was the stress of his job, he suspected. Too much time spent cooped up in the office was clearly taking its toll. He decided perhaps it was time to put his foot down and tell Picquery that he will not be kept behind that desk, being told to order his team of Aurors to complete fieldwork. That was his area, it was why he had formerly become an Auror himself: to catch dark wizards, not to do the paper work. 

He fixed his mind on that conversation, thinking about every possible excuse the President would undoubtedly throw his way to keep him under her thumb. Thinking about what an ass she could be made the bourbon go down a whole lot easier. He also felt comforted by the fact that at least he might catch a glimpse of the stranger again on his way back from work. Before he could stop himself, he realised that he was quite looking forward to that prospect. 

And accompanying that thought was something that felt like relief. Which in this case seemed terribly one-sided to Percival as the stranger would undoubtedly be anything but relieved to know that the somewhat feared and less than amiable Director of Magical Security would probably be keeping tabs on his movements for the foreseeable future simply because he could. Graves pushed the thought aside. He was all too aware of how wrong it was to entertain this fascination, but it gave his mind a focus. It was something that he could have control over, it gave his actions a purpose - albeit a selfish one. 

He resolved with that thought that he would try to find the man again after work. Even if just to walk a little way behind him with no agenda other than to simply set his mind to something that had nothing to do with the daily monotony of being stuck behind his desk. In a silent acknowledgement of his newfound task, he set about gathering himself to settle down for the night, thoughts filled with that single point in time where he would be fully in control of his own journey.


	2. Credence

The route was usually the same, passing by the entrance to MACUSA and through the busy streets of the city. Graves would drop back with the crowd and follow the man until he inevitably disappeared around a corner and the trail would go cold. He gave up checking possible concealed entrances in the surrounding area after the first couple of times he had trailed him. It was clear he didn’t want to be found and was doing a very good job of covering his tracks. 

He did wonder what would happen if the man realised he was being followed. Graves was careful to use No-Maj cloaking charms so at least he would not be recognised by anybody else taking the same path. But he still really had no clue as to whether the man was a wizard or not. He found that particularly frustrating as he would usually be able to tell the difference instinctively, being who he was. This stranger was the perfect, but equally most frustrating kind of puzzle.

The only thing he could say for certain about him was that he must be kind. Their route took them past a dilapidated church which Graves recalled was the base for the Second Salem fanatics before it was destroyed. Tina had reported on the large number of poor No-Maj children who would go there for sanctuary and food and he supposed the small group of children who had taken up home in the remains since then must have been amongst that number. Almost every day the stranger would slip into the church, checking he wasn’t being watched as he did so. Graves pursued him under a cloaking charm, observing as the man gave the children food and bits of spare change. Graves remembered being taken aback the first time he’d seen it. He looked too well-kept and quite honestly out of place offering charity to the children. He thought that perhaps if there were more people like him to help those less fortunate, the city would be a much more pleasant place.

He found himself thinking about it while he was sitting at his desk leafing through the reports of alleged sightings of Grindelwald. He felt his concentration slipping and realised he had really been thinking about whether something should be done about those children huddled up in the church. It was certainly none of his business as a magical law enforcer and should be left to the No-Maj authorities to deal with themselves. But it made him ashamed to realize he could happily acknowledge that there are people who need help and do absolutely nothing about it, while the stranger’s generosity alone proved how selfish Graves was to just stand back and let it happen.

He tossed the papers down and reached for his coat. He may be unable to deal with the issue directly, but the least he could do was to inform the authorities of what was going on. Then those children might finally get some real help and his conscience would be clean. 

Graves slipped out of his office, heading down the street towards the church. He muttered a quick cloaking charm before passing unnoticed though the main doorway which looked as though it was about to give way under the heavy weight of the crumbling church. He skimmed over the room, searching for the children, but there was no sign of anybody there. Carefully stepping around the rubble and debris from the collapsed roof, he pushed his way towards the back of the church. He tried each room in turn to no avail, until he made for the stairs and caught the muffled sound of a boy’s voice. 

As quietly as possible, Graves ascended the staircase. Letting the cloaking charm dissolve with a quick flourish of his hand, he swung open the door. Gathered on the ground and huddled under a thick woollen blanket sat five small children, each staring up at him with wide frightened eyes. Graves was careful not to step any closer and cause them alarm. Instead he slowly made to crouch down to their level, putting on the kind of gentle smile he usually reserved for people in distressed circumstances.

“Hello” he said simply. The children stared up at him silently, until one of them shifted to whisper to the others. He turned back to Graves with a slight frown.

“Have you come to take us away?” he piped up.

Before Graves had the chance to answer, a shadow stretched over where he was crouching. He turned to look over at the figure in the dooway and froze immediately at the sight of the fur trailing down around his ankles. He willed himself not to flush at the thought that he might be recognised. He made to stand up, feeling rather numb as he tried to regain his composure. He looked up at the man, mind going a little foggy as the realisation hit him that this was the first time he had looked at his face square-on. He only met his dark eyes for a brief moment before having to look away, sliding his gaze along the sharp jawline and off to a space just past his head. He internally chided himself for his unprofessional behaviour.

“What are you doing here?” The man bit out.

“The same as you, I am helping these children,” Graves said as smoothly as he could manage, attempting to sound in control of the situation.

He willed himself to meet the man’s eyes. He was outright glaring at Graves, mouth trembling slightly with restrained anger. He stepped around Graves to stand over the children protectively. 

“Who are you then? A police officer?” Before Graves had the chance to think of a response, the man cut in again hurriedly. “I won’t let you take them away.”

Graves clenched his jaw. He could feel his brow fixing itself into a strained furrow at just how badly this whole situation was playing out. 

“I appreciate that you think you are helping these children, but they need to be taken somewhere safe. They can’t stay in this place. Look at it, it’s falling apart.”

“They are happy here. They have food and water and a roof over their head, that’s all they need.”

“They barely have that. You can’t raise children in a crumbling church. I’m sorry, but I need to take them down to the police station. Please let me help them.”

The man’s jaw visibly twitched with contained frustration. He folded his arms defensively over his chest.

“I don’t believe you told me your name,” he bit out. “I am assuming you are a policeman, otherwise you have no right to give me any sort of lecture.”

“Percival Graves,” he said, holding out his hand. “I work with the New York Police Department”. The other man simply looked down at his hand with a frosty expression. Just as Graves made to drop it back by his side, the man clasped it briefly. Graves took that as a confirmation of his story, thanking Merlin for his luck that his lie wasn’t being questioned. 

He turned to look down at the children who were watching the conversation play out with wide eyed confusion. 

“You don’t know what kind of people they’ll be made to live with.” Graves looked back up to the man, eyebrows raised in question. He didn’t quite meet Graves’ gaze as he continued. “They could be put with people who treat them badly.”

“That won’t happen. I promise you, Mr–” he faltered for a moment. “I’m sorry, you didn’t tell me your name”.

The man hesitated for a moment, looking down at the children then back up at Graves.

“Credence Barebone,” he muttered, looking rather sheepish at having the information wrangled out of him. Something about the man’s unusual name seemed to sound familiar, but Graves couldn’t quite place it in his mind. He decided not to dwell on it, filing it away for later.

“Mr Barebone, I can promise you that they will be very happy in their new home. The people who take in children from the orphan train are very generous and kind-hearted. They will be perfectly happy with their new family in the countryside.”

The man – Credence – let his shoulders drop a little in defeat. He didn’t look convinced, like he was trying to turn over the thought of a happy home for these children but couldn’t picture it. Graves put on a reassuring smile that he hoped didn’t look too forced. In truth, he didn’t know whether this would be for the best, but he was certain that raising children alone in a crumbling building held a much less promising future than what would become of them under adoptive care in the countryside.

“It will be fine, I promise.” He turned to the children and motioned for them to follow. “Come along. Let’s get you down to the station before it starts to get dark out, alright?”

They looked up at Credence as though waiting for confirmation and his head shifted in a weak nod of agreement. He helped the children gather themselves and their few belongings as they trailed after Graves out of the church and down to the police station. He stopped short of the entrance and turned to Credence.

“I can take this from here, Mr Barebone. You can leave now.”

Credence, who had remained silent along the journey, looked utterly downtrodden. He turned to each one of the children and gave them a quick hug. They parted ways as Graves ushered the children into the police station, slipping a quietly muttered confundus charm to the officer who greeted them, planting within him the suggestion that he had found the orphans himself. 

He left the police officer to deal with the situation and slipped back out of the station without attracting too much attention. Once outside, he felt himself physically sigh with relief. It was nearing the end of his shift and, realising his absence would not have gone unnoticed, he decided he would have to send a message to his assistant letting her know he’d left at short notice to follow up a lead. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was good as any. 

Wandering back through the streets towards his apartment, Graves stopped by a local diner for a black coffee in the hopes that it might settle his nerves. He sat down with the mug cupped between his hands and gazed out of the window, silently watching people pass by. The day really hadn’t gone at all as planned and, with a twinge of disappointment, Graves realised he had probably ruled out any chance of befriending the man now that he had outright lied to him about who he really was. The man – Credence, Graves reminded himself – hadn’t recognised him, which he supposed he should feel relieved about considering he’d had no good reason to follow him. Still Graves couldn’t help but be disappointed at that too. If he hadn’t been able to see through Graves’ cloaking charm then it was likely he was a No-Maj after all. He’d practically be breaking his own laws by even entertaining the possibility of any kind of interaction between them.

He drained the rest of the coffee and made to leave the diner, rubbing his temple where a dull ache had begun to form. It was just a short trip back to his apartment and he decided that walking rather than apparating would do him good. At the very least it would allow him to clear his mind and get back on track with his work.

 

*

 

“Evelina, I was wondering whether you could check something for me,” Graves said as he skimmed over the pile of documents on his desk. His assistant smiled breezily, waiting for him to continue.

“I was wondering if you could see whether the name Credence Barebone has anything to do with our investigation. Would you mind checking?” 

“Certainly, Director Graves. I’ll see to that now”.

Giving her a brief nod in thanks, he settled to busying himself until she returned a little while later, a neatly marked file in hand.

“I found the surname you asked for, but there is no mention of anyone called Credence,” she explained, handing him the file to examine. “You remember the case that Miss Goldstein was assigned to before she was demoted? The woman she attacked was Miss Mary Lou Barebone.” She gestured at the attached photograph of a rather fierce looking woman. “She ran the so called Second Salem group”.

Graves frowned as he examined the picture closer. He compared his memory of Credence and the stern face of Miss Barebone which was staring out at him from the photograph. Despite sharing a surname, they certainly looked nothing alike.

“There are also documents for the two girls she had adopted. Chastity and Modesty Barebone,” she said, pointing at both small photographs of the girls in turn. Again they bore no particular resemblance to each other, their mother, or even Credence. However, given that he didn’t look to have been much older than his early twenties, there seemed to be a good chance he too had been under her care at some point. With such an unusual surname it could hardly be a coincidence. 

He thanked his assistant who left him to look over the rest of the file. The murder of Chastity and Mary Lou Barebone was as yet an unsolved case, but it had been noted in the evidence that the destruction of the church had been caused by some form of magic. Graves wondered whether Credence was linked to it in some way, or even the younger Modesty Barebone who was reported to have since been placed under adoptive care with a No-Maj couple. 

Either way, Graves figured that the person responsible for the destruction must have possessed immense power. And the documents noted that both victims had been murdered using magic, not by the falling rubble. By that information, it seemed likely that their killer had had a personal vendetta against them, although Graves wondered whether that could be a more widely applied hatred of the Second Salem group itself, with Mary Lou Barebone being the figurehead without which the group would cease to function.

It was becoming increasingly apparent that of all the people who might have information about the murderer or any likely suspects, Credence was the one. There was no information about him at all which Graves couldn’t help but find suspicious, and while he knew Credence couldn’t be responsible given his lack of magical powers, there was a good chance he would have some idea of who the culprit was. He concluded that he would have to meet with him to find out what he knew, even if it meant continuing his cover as a No-Maj police officer. 

As much as he was sure that level of deception was bound to have severe consequences for him, it was the only way he would really be able to get his hooks into the case which had otherwise been swept under the carpet. The majority of the investigative team had turned its attention to Grindelwald’s movements through Europe and towards America, which was proving a challenge to keep up with as he left destruction throughout both the magical and non-magical community the closer he got. And as their efforts so far had got them no closer to apprehending the wizard, if there was any chance whatsoever that this incident could be related to Grindelwald or his followers then Graves would jump at the chance to get even an inch closer to a solid lead. With that in mind, he set about planning his next encounter with Credence and how he would go about extracting any information the man could be hiding about the murder of the other two Barebone’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fic so please be gentle! Concrit, comments and kudos are all welcome and much appreciated.
> 
> Here's an accompanying [playlist](https://playmoss.com/en/seraphinyte/playlist/credence-in-furs) I put together for this fic (I'm nothing if not a completist ;)). 
> 
> I'm also on Tumblr over [here](http://seraphinyte.tumblr.com/) so feel free to come and say hi!


End file.
